


And The Dark Lord Shall Mark Him As His Equal

by AudrianDae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explosion TW, Graphic Depictions of Drowning (Last Chapter), M/M, Soulmate AU, Suicide, mentions of child abuse, timetravel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudrianDae/pseuds/AudrianDae
Summary: All Harry ever wanted was to be normal. To his disappointment, he never had been, and it would be hard for him to ever be.As it turned out, it only took a small explosion to change his life. From now on, life would never be the same.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 18
Kudos: 312





	1. Stay Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skittykitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/gifts).



> Exchange fic for skittykitty! Prompt: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Soulmate AU, Timetravel.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic! Leave a review or message me what you thought of this!
> 
> Note:  
> There's some pretty graphic stuff in this. Don't force yourself to read it if you can't.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's world turns upside down due to a small explosion.
> 
> He had always been told he was a freak, but this was some sort of next level bullshit.

Dudley and Piers ran into the reptile enclosure of the zoo. They knocked on the glass windows and leered at the snakes. Trailing behind them was a much smaller boy. Harry followed them, not wanting to draw their attention, but not willing to go far enough away to be scolded and punished.

He was so distracted that he didn't notice the voices until he nearly walked headlong into an enclosure with a snake inside. Some of the voices were furious, some were scared, but most of them just seemed resigned. The precious few that still acted alive begged for freedom, for privacy away from the humans. _Go away,_ they hissed. _Leave us alone!_

Harry's fists clenched in anger, his nails biting into his palms and leaving deep gouges.The snakes didn’t deserve to be trapped in a glass box, with people coming by day by day, invading their privacy.

He supposed he could understand how they felt. Sometimes, when the Dursleys thought he did something _freakish_ , or if they thought he had done something inconvenient for them, or if they just felt like it, Uncle Vernon would lock him in his cupboard, or Dudley would poke him with a stick, or Aunt Petunia would swing a frying pan at his head.

Maybe he deserved to live in a cupboard, but these snakes _weren't_ freaks, these snakes were normal, and they deserved their own bedrooms and meals and toilets like normal people. Harry’s fists clenched tighter, the pain of his nails on his skin bringing his mind back to the snakes in the zoo. Dudley was scaring them by banging on the glass. The _snakes_ were terrified, and Harry was furious on their behalf. Frozen, stuck in the same place as fists and kicks rained down upon the glass, on him!

And it was _his fault_ if he bled on the carpets. _His fault_ if Dudley’s grades were worse than his. _His fault_ if the snakes didn’t move and entertain the _stupid fat humans. His fault_ if he ran away and Dudley complained that he flew. _His fault_ if the milk went bad.

Why not make his freakishness count?

The world faded into a dull roar. Harry's vision shrunk to a point. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His fists seemed as motionless and lifeless as stone. Then, the world shattered. Harry's stone fists seem to fall apart, and beneath the stone his hands could move.The stone exploded off his hands, and with it the glass.

In a second, the reptile house was filled with chaos.

~~~~~

Glass shards shredded through clothes, through people and came out bloodied. Screams filled the air. Harry’s stomach revolted at the smell of offal and blood. People sprinted for the exits, trampling over anyone in their way.. Dudley shoved Harry to the floor in his rush to escape, before vanishing into the stampede.

Harry's hands were cut up as they landed hard on the glass shards on the floor. He didn't notice. He scrambled backwards, away from the stomping feet of the crowd. He could hear the snap of breaking bone and screams of pain as people tripped and were caught underfoot.

He did notice when a hard boot landed on his leg, and, with a sick _crack_ , his entire side was filled with pain. Another shoe caught him in the ribs, and another crack filled Harry's ears.

Harry’s back hit a wall, and a white-hot knife of pain exploded in his side. He could see the swell of the crowd nearing him, and he scrambled away, looking for any way to be out of their way when they arrived. A blink later, he somehow managed to pull himself over the protective metal bars in front of a glass enclosure. He was deep in an enclosure. His insides felt like they had been pulled out, jumbled up and shoved back inside. It hurt as he gasped for air.

'Help!' Harry cried out. He hissed in pain as his shredded hands scrambled on the rough rocks and branches of the exhibit. His face turned green when he caught a glance of his foot. It wasn’t supposed to be at that angle, Something white seemed to be poking out of his shin.

_‘Safe. Ssafe. Protect.’_

A snake hovered over him protectively.

 _‘Protect.’_ The snake bobbed its head like a nod. _‘Hatchling safe.’_

'I’m not a hatchling.' Harry protested weakly.

Harry could hear his heart beating out of his chest. Try as he might, he couldn't seem to slow his breathing, even as each breath was another red-hot knife in his side.

He was cold. Was he supposed to be cold?

He couldn't seem to be able to move.

Harry barely noticed the people rushing over to those on the floor, the first aid kits being pulled out, the smells of vomiting, the whimpering and crying of the injured.

Harry couldn't seem to feel the pain anymore. His eyes drooped as a person leaned over him. There was some yelling and cursing. The snake wasn’t over him anymore. It was hissing violently, whipping furiously above his head.

Harry blinked, and struggled to reopen his eyes. When he did, a mask was over his face and he could see the ceiling moving above his head. He struggled to move, but he was strapped down to something, and there was a blanket over him.

Then, the world faded into oblivion.

~~~~~

 _‘Every magical human has a soulmate._ ’

_Tom turned._

_‘So what are you?’ Myrtle Warren simpered. ‘A squib, or a soulless beast?’_

_'Clever,' Tom remarked. 'Did it take you all week to come up with that?'_

_Ms Warren sniffed in mock indignation._

_'A beast,' she accused._

_Tom sniffed contemptuously, and walked off without giving her any further satisfaction by responding._

~~~~~

Harry woke from the strange dream with a surprisingly little amount of pain. That is to say, there was none. He wasn’t in his cupboard. He was in a room with unfamiliarly white walls. Harry was on a bed, an actual bed, like the one Dudley had. Someone was in the room with him, but with his vision, he couldn't see anything.

'Hello, my name is Doctor Jess. What’s yours?'

Harry wracked his brain for what the teachers called him, if rarely. _Henry? Ha… something. Harold?_ 'Ha… Harry.'

'Harry. Can you remember your parent’s numbers?'

It was an easy mistake, and he was wasn't hurt by it.

'My parents are dead. My aunt and uncle were with me at the zoo… What happened?' Harry sat up with ease. He shouldn’t be this healed already.

'I'm not entirely sure,' she said. 'Some sort of glass resonance? They're still investigating. All the glass in the reptile enclosure broke at the same time, injuring a lot of people. Do you have any other living relatives?'

'I don’t think so.' Harry frowned. 'How many people died?' He had to know how many people he had killed.

She didn’t answer him. Instead, someone else walked in. Harry squinted, wishing he had his glasses. All he could make out was a blob of green. The blob approached Harry, slowly coming into focus. He could make out a female face, worried.

'Hello, Harry. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. I’m going to move you to another room, and I’ll explain there. Is that okay?'

'Alright,' he said slowly.

She placed something in his hand.

'Hold on tight. This may feel a bit odd.'

Harry’s hand tightened around a smooth handle. His innards lurched as he was squeezed through a pipe and spat out onto the floor. Harry landed softly on the ground. The lady that had brought him there picked him up and placed him on a different bed. She collapsed into a chair with a heavy sigh.

'Mrs. Figg told me what happened.'

Harry squinted at the blur, trying to find eyes to meet. 'You’re not a nurse… Who are you?'

'Professor Minerva McGonagall from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

'Magic isn't real,' he said in confusion.

Uncle Vernon had verbally beaten that into him. Dudley and Aunt Petunia had done so literally.

'Are you having trouble seeing?'

Harry nodded, still not quite able to locate her eyes. He settled for facing the ceiling instead.

'My glasses,' he explained. ‘Wh–’

'You must have a lot of questions, but you need to recover first. Have a good rest, Mr. Potter.'

Harry hadn't told her his name. It was all very odd, but he found himself nodding off within seconds.

~~~~~

Harry stared blankly just past Professor McGonagall's head. He was still stuck in bed due to his broken leg.

'You're telling me all those people _died_ , because _magic_??' He evaded her eyes, feeling rage boil in him again. 'I don't believe you.'

'Explain this, then.'

She stepped in front of his line of view and turned into a cat. Harry stared at her in interest. She jumped onto the bed near Harry's legs and sat there. The cat had interesting spectacle-like markings around its eyes. He pet the top of her head gently, as if afraid she would run away. McGonagall moved closer.

'I don’t know. There’s no way to explain this.’

Harry relaxed as the Professor – as the cat – purred.

His hand retracted to his lap as she pulled away. She jumped off the bed, smoothly becoming human again.

'Mr. Potter. When your leg has recovered more, I would like to take you to Diagon Alley, where you could get new glasses and school supplies for Hogwarts.'

'First tell me...' Harry's voice wavered. 'How many people d–?'

His voice broke, and he couldn't seem to bring himself to repeat his words.

'Only 10.'

Her left eye twitched.

He flinched. 'The truth please, Professor.'

McGonagall sighed.

'24,' she said. 'Among them were your aunt and uncle.'

 _Good riddance._ Harry thought, then immediately felt guilty.

There was a long pause

'So where will I stay now?' he said, very softly.

There wasn't a hint of grief in his tone. McGonagall smiled softly.

'You can stay here, at Hogwarts, as long as you like.'

'Okay...' Harry fidgeted. 'Is there anything I can do in bed? Books?'

McGonagall's smile widened. _The beginnings of a Ravenclaw_. She thought fondly. 'Of course. Any preferences?'

'Introductions to magic?'

There was so much to learn!

'One more thing. Go easy on your body while it heals. Either Madam Pomfrey or I will help you change the wrappings on your wrist, and you should know...' She paused. 'Your left lung was damaged, and we weren't able to entirely fix it. You may tire more easily or feel short of breath. We'll be around if you need us.' Professor McGonagall stood. 'I'll get you the books.'

Harry nodded, feeling very small in the vast white comforter.

~~~~~

' _A History of Magic_ , _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , _Soulmates and Soulmarks_ , and _A Brief Cultural Primer for Muggleborns, by Muggleborns_.' McGonagall placed the books at his bedside. 'Which book would you rather read first?'

'Thank you.' Harry said, slightly surprised that she had followed through. 'I– Actually, I don't know. I– What are soulmates?' He flinched as Professor McGonagall fixed him with a stare. 'Sorry,' he said.

'No need to apologise. You are rather new to the magical world. Soulmates are who you are destined to be with. All magicals have one. After arriving at a magical school, something within their magical core activates, allowing you to communicate with your soulmate by writing on your arm. It is common for the young wizards and witches to ask who your soulmate is, but it is your business whether or not you want to tell them.'

'Have people not had soulmates before? And if so, why?' Harry wondered.

'Some people have written to their soulmates and had no response. Sometimes, it was a prank that never lasted very long. Sometimes, there's an age gap between the two, so the younger soulmate had not yet attended a magical school. One of my students had a soulmate an entire eleven years younger than him!'

Harry nodded along slowly.

'Often, this is not the case,' Professor McGonagall continued. 'Your parents, for instance, were in the same year. Your father, James, was one of my favorite students, being as talented and hard-working in Transfiguration as he was. Lily’s skills leaned more towards Charms and Potions. She was the most intriguing muggleborn I had ever had the pleasure of working with.'

'They were drunks!' Harry contradicted. 'The Dursleys said my parents died in a car crash!'

'Lily and James were some of the best students I ever had,' the Professor insisted. 'Lily and James Potter, drunks? Hah!' she shouted derisively. 'They were anything but drunks.'

‘Then how did they die?'

'They died protecting you. There was a war. One of the best Slytherins – the Heir of Slytherin, in fact – had gone bad, and brought his followers with him. The Knights of Walpurgis, they were called, but they became known by a different name: the Death Eaters. Your parents fought against them – quite successfully, in fact. So, he decided that they, and by extension you, had to die.

'You must understand: in those days, when the Heir of Slytherin decided someone should die, they died. He killed your parents, but for some reason, he failed to kill you. All we know is that your parents' house in Godric's Hollow had exploded, your father was dead downstairs, your mother, dead beside your crib, and Voldemort's exploded robes were found, covered with ash, and you had a fresh cut, deep into your forehead.'

Harry's hand went to his scar, tracing its rough edges.

'You're the only person who survived the killing curse after it had hit you. That, and you causing his death, made you famous in Wizarding Britain. You're known as the Boy-Who-Lived.'

'More like the Boy-Who-Spent-His-Life-A-Slave.' Harry muttered.

If Magical Britain had cared so much about him, if he was so _special_ to them, they should have been there long before the zoo. If he had been so – _important_ , they should have taken him away long ago. It didn't matter what they said they thought. It was what they did and will do that would matter to him.

'Thank you for the books.' Harry's expression closed off. He was done talking.

His attention turned to the books. He took the book on Soulmates, surprised at how tiny it was. There really wasn't much inside. There were very few chapters explaining how the soulbond worked, and many more explaining different examples of what had happened.

Soulmates were the two people who were linked together by their soulbond. The soulbond was an invisible bond between two soulmates. Honestly, there wasn't much detail about that. The writing on soulmates' arms was commonly mistaken for the soulbond itself, but technically, it was the soulmark.

Lesser Halfbloods, the children of a magical and a muggle were often looked down on, seeing as their parents had either ignored their soulmark or had not waited for their soulmate to be old enough to write to them. Children of a pureblood and a muggleborn were called halfbloods, as their blood was half fresh magic and half old magic. Children of muggleborn were Freshbloods, as they only had fresh magic.


	2. Magical Transportation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's experiences with Magical Transportation are not fun.

It was a week later when Professor McGonagall decided Harry was ready to visit Diagon Alley.

'I'll be taking some muggleborn and muggle-raised students to Diagon Alley later today, would you like to come?' she asked.

Harry's head shot out from the Transfiguration book it was buried in.

'Yes, please.' He paused. 'Would you be able to disguise me or something? I– I just want to be a normal boy.'

'Of course.' She nodded. 'We'll be leaving at 1:10.'

Harry spent the time until lunch burning with excitement and writing a list of things he wanted to get. Most of it was books, but a mokeskin pouch with an expansion charm and featherweight charm would be extremely helpful for lugging his books, potion ingredients and caldron to all his classes. He also scribbled down a self inking quill, more scrolls of parchment and a few notebooks.

'One more thing, Harry.' Professor McGonagall said. 'If you want to seem like a normal boy – if you don't want to attract too much attention in Diagon Alley, perhaps you should come up with a different name to use until the school year begins?'

He scoured over old school records for potential names while munching ginger nuts. Harry had a few names written on parchment, but he hadn't found a combination he liked.

'Taylor doesn't show up much.' Harry commented. 'Muggleborn last name?'

Professor McGonagall looked up from her paperwork. 'Evan? Your mother's maiden name was Evans. It would be a sort of memory of her.'

It was a nice name, Harry decided.

'Evan Taylor. Now I need to get used to being called that.'

~~~~~

Harry self-consciously ran a hand through his now dirty blond hair. He and Professor McGonagall were standing outside the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for the muggleborns and their parents to arrive. Harry spotted an excited, bushy haired girl about his age, tugging her parents along while simultaneously looking ahead longingly. At the sight of Professor McGonagall, she broke away from her parents and sped ahead to speak to her.

Harry was a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of _energy_ she had. Her thoughts and mouth ran rapid fire, and she barely stopped for breath. When her parents finally caught up to her, and Professor McGonagall finished answering her second round of questions, she spotted Harry.

'Oh, hello! I didn't see you earlier. I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?'

'Uh, I'm Evan Taylor.' He smiled uncertainly. 'Nice to meet you.'

'You're a muggleborn, right? How long have you known? I've been so excited since Professor McGonagall told me-'

Harry raised a hand shyly to stop her. 'Uh... Maybe we shouldn't talk about magic out in the streets?'

Hermione blushed. 'Sorry, it's just all so... Magical.'

She laughed, and a quarter second later, he joined along awkwardly.

'I'm uh... a halfblood. I only found out a few days ago.' Harry explained. 'Have you met the other muggleborns yet?'

Hermione nodded so fast Harry was half afraid her head would fall off. 'There's Justin Finch-Fletchley, Terry Boot, and Dean Thomas. I asked Professor McGonagall about it just now. Terry and I go to the same school.'

'Neat!'

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw two boys running towards them. Their parents were walking behind them, like Hermione's had. Hermione introduced him to Terry, who introduced them to Dean and Justin, who happened to saunter up as he was mentioned.

'So... Is that it?' Justin eyed the shops. His eyes landed on the Leaky Cauldron.

'That's the one.' Harry confirmed.

'There's no Leaky Cauldron. Are we on the right street?' Hermione's father.

'Of course!' exclaimed Hermione, and bodily dragged her father into the pub.

~~~~~

It was at Flourish and Blotts when the first incident occurred. The shopkeeper squinted at Harry's forehead, his eyes widening when he saw the scar.

'Harry Potter? Harry Potter in my shop?'

Other customers turned around at the shopkeeper's outburst. They all began whispering among each other.

'Wha–?' Harry flattened his hair down. 'Uh.. No?'

'Merlin's Beard! It is! Thank you so much, Mr. Potter.'

'You saved us all!'

'I just want to thank you.'

Harry shrunk into himself. They were too close, crowding around him and he couldn't _think_ or _see_ or _breathe._ His fists clenched, and when they released, his magic exploded around him. It pushed people back as it formed a sphere of _safe safe safe safe_ around him. All the noise fuzzed out to a dull roar. _Freak!_ He could almost hear Aunt Petunia's voice.

He just wanted to _disappear._ He felt like he was being pulled through a garden hose,becoming longer and longer and _longer_ and suddenly he was on a rooftop. Harry gasped and flailed, trying not to fall off. His sides twinged. He sat there, trying to force air back into his lungs. Time passed – Harry didn't know how much. A cat made of glowing silver smoke appeared in front of him.

'Where are you?' it said in Professor McGonagall's voice. 'They're saying Harry Potter was in Flourish and Blotts but he disappeared.'

'I– I'm on the roof and I can't get down.' His voice shook badly.

The cat turned and disappeared back towards where it came. Within a minute Professor McGonagall was by his side, trying to coax him to return to ground.

'But the– the Muggleborns?'

'Are with their parents, having lunch and drinks at the Leaky Cauldron.' McGonagall said, forcing an artificial calm on her words. 'Should I take you to join them? We can apparate down and, I swear, _no one_ will disturb you while I'm with you.'

Harry breathed shakily, failing to bring his dying panic under control. Slowly, he began to nod.

They Apparated down to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's trembling only began to slow after his third gulp of Butterbeer. He still felt too jittery to eat, so he ended up mostly pushing his food around on his plate. Professor McGonagall fixed anyone who tried to approach him with a death stare.

'H– Harry Potter?'

Harry tried not to react. A hand landed heavily on his shoulder. He flinched away, nearly dropping his fork, and the hand retracted. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

'Step away from my student,' she said with a steely voice.

The presence behind him retreated quickly. Harry realised, right then, just how _awesome_ she was.

No one else dared to approach him after that, but he could feel the weight of the concerned glances from Professor McGonagall and Hermione and _everyone in the Leaky Cauldron_. Harry dodged Hermione's questions, promising he would tell her on the train. It silenced her for a while, but she was almost literally exploding to ask. He _would_ explain, just not right now. Not when he still couldn't stop shivering.

After finishing his food, the shivering had mostly ceased, but Harry remained mostly unresponsive for the rest of the trip. His eyes rarely left the cobbles. It was with great mutual relief when Professor McGonagall announced, hours later, that they had gotten everything they needed and could return to Hogwarts.

~~~~~

The first spell Harry learnt was _Lumos_ , the light charm. It was the first spell in the _Standard Book of Spells_ , and Harry was nervous to try it, much less in front of Professor McGonagall.

A horrible thought struck him, as they were wont to do when he was very nervous. What if he said ' _Lumos_ ,' but no matter what he tried, his wand wouldn't light up? What if, after his hundredth try, Professor McGonagall decided that there had obviously been a mistake, and he couldn't be the same Harry Potter that had survived when his parents had been killed by the Heir of Slytherin, and he had better go back to Privet Drive and wait for Aunt Marge to pick him up, and Aunt Marge would obviously never do _that_ , and he'd be stuck there until the neighbors called the police and he got arrested–

' _Lumos,_ ' he said, voice trembling, and felt a rush of disappointment as his wand failed to light.

'Focus on the _Will_ aspect of the charm,' Professor McGonagall said. 'You need to want it.'

Harry wanted it– no, he needed it. His fondest wish was to be accepted, to be wanted. If he couldn't cast _Lumos_ , then Professor McGonagall wouldn't accept him, and if Professor McGonagall wouldn't accept him, no one would accept him, so the _spell had to work!_

'Lumos!'

The light was so blindingly bright that, in a moment, he dropped his wand and clutched his eyes with both hands. The light faded out, and Harry's eyes were stinging, but he couldn't help but grin.

'I can cast magic.' The grin was stuck on his face.

Professor McGonagall blinked hard a few times, annoyed, but her face quickly softened. 'Yes, Harry. Take a break to calm your nerves. Be careful, please, while you're practicing magic. .' She smiled with him. 'You can do it here, so I can watch you.’

Harry looked at her skeptically.

'For my sanity,' she added.

Harry didn't want to be stared at like a snake in a zoo, but perhaps it was best to stay in her good graces, even if it made him uncomfortable. Harry's cheeks ached from smiling for so long. Come to think of it, it felt odd to be smiling without forcing it.

Harry nodded begrudgingly. He picked up his wand, preparing to cast _Lumos_ once again. Perhaps, with a weaker will, it wouldn't be so blindingly bright?

 _'Lumos,_ ' he incanted. The wand tip lit with light, and Harry beamed at Professor McGonagall.

'What's the next spell for me to learn?' he asked.

‘Dinner first, Harry,' Professor McGonagall chided.

Harry nodded. He was _starving._


	3. Unknowingly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry acquires his school supplies. He just wants to be normal...

Two months had passed quickly, Harry having spent most of his time reading and practicing wandless magic in Professor McGonagall's rooms, as well as meeting the other Professors. Apparently he was the first student who would live at Hogwarts year-round. Harry didn't mind that one bit. Hogwarts was amazing.

Even so,he would be taking the Hogwarts Express with the other students – as was the tradition. For the sake of privacy – at least that was how Minerva had explained it – he would take the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross, to hide that he actually lived at Hogwarts.

After arriving at King's Cross, Harry would then be apparated back to Hogwarts by Minerva, who would transfigure herself to disguise herself, and he would live there until the time once again came to board the train.

He woke late on the morning of 1 September, having been too nervous to sleep until long after the fireplace had burned down to embers. He could barely eat breakfast, though he forced himself to swallow a few mouthfuls of cold eggs as Professor McGonagall called him to apparate to King's Cross.

They arrived at King's Cross at 9:50am. Harry fidgeted nervously at the edge of Platform 9¾. Harry hadn’t been around this many people since the zoo. Professor McGonagall seemed to be trying to take his mind off of the impending crowd, offering to take him through the barrier. Harry declined. The barrier appeared very solid, and he didn’t want to take his chances.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the train pulled into the station. It slowed to a halt, steam billowing from the locomotive. An autumn chill had just arrived, and Harry was rather grateful for the warmth of the steam.

He pushed his trolley forward, bringing his trunk up to the train. Harry tensed, lifting the trunk. For a moment, he struggled, then the weight of the trunk seemed to vanish. He stumbled backwards before catching his balance.

'Featherweight charm, Professor McGonagall exclaimed. 'It’ll make your trunk a lot easier to carry.'

'Thanks,' Harry beamed at Professor McGonagall.

He carried his trunk onto the train.

Harry wandered up the corridor, looking for a compartment which wouldn't be filled with people talking and staring. To his dismay, none of the compartments looked particularly repulsive. For a moment, he considered sitting with the Professor-on-Duty. Then again, it was Professor Flitwick who was on duty. Though he was a great professor, and fun to be around, Professor Flitwick would probably push him to interact with the other students.

Harry didn't want that, so he found an empty compartment – Merlin, there were a lot of those. He hefted his trunk onto the overhead compartment. Although it was featherweight, it was rather annoying to get over his head and onto the rack. Finally, with a huff of breath, it stayed. Harry collapsed onto the seat, cursing his unfortunate shortness.

Sittingalone, he occupied himself by flipping through the pages of his _Standard Book of Spells Grade One_ for the thousandth time. A few minutes into his book, the compartment door opened. A haughty-looking first-year stepped into the compartment, barely glancing in Harry’s direction.

'Harry Potter is supposed to come to Hogwarts this year. Have you seen him on the train?' The boy said.

'No, I haven't.' Technically, it was true: Harry hadn't looked into a mirror on board the train. He kept his face buried in his book, hoping the boy would go away.

The boy scoffed and left, compartment door closing behind him. Harry chanced a glance over the top of his book. The boy had platinum blond – nearly white – hair, which was very well tamed. Harry's hair could never be tamed like that.

Hermione poked her head in his compartment, rattling off words that she'd obviously said a few times before. 'Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost his.'

Her eyes set on him, eyes lighting up with recognition. 'Didn’t you have blond hair at Diagon Alley?'

Harry sighed. 'Yeah, come in for a moment, I’ll explain.'

The door closed behind Hermione as she sat across from him. Harry glanced at the door, hoping no one was listening.

'I was under disguise because we didn’t want too much attention.'

Hermione's mouth opened, and Harry held up a hand to stop her inevitable stream of questions.

‘You see, I’m Harry Potter. No, I don’t want to be famous. Yes, I’m just Harry. Yes, I disappeared for a while at Diagon Alley; that was because I was mobbed by a crowd. No, I'm not any sort of hero. Of course, I don't even remember what happened. I was one.'

Hermione sat, shocked. ' _You’re_ Harry Potter?! You’re in _History books_ , and you _don’t want to be FAMOUS??_ ”

'I don't, no. I’m just– just Harry. Just Harry.’ Harry sighed heavily. ‘Would you do me a favor and keep on pretending I'm Evan until the sorting? I'd be very grateful.'

'Of course!' The shock on her face faded away. 'Could you help me find Neville's toad?'

Harry nodded, thankful for the change of topic. He led Hermione and Neville, a slightly pudgy and very nervous boy, to the Professor's compartment. Professor Flitwick was happy to cast the summoning charm to return Neville's lost toad. For the rest of the train ride, they sat together in a compartment, Harry smiling as he realised that he had just _made friends_.

~~~~~

The trolley witch came and went, leaving Harry’s money pouch 11 sickles and 12 knuts lighter. He had purchased a little bit of everything, and dumped it on the seat between Neville and himself. Hermione appeared miffed that he had purchased such a large quantity of sweets, but that didn’t stop her from nibbling at a wriggling chocolate frog. Neville shrugged nonchalantly, already having half a pumpkin pasty in his mouth. Harry made a face as he bit into a cauldron cake.

The rest of the train ride flew by, and Harry soon found himself stuffing the extra snacks into his robe pockets and disembarking the train into the cold night air. Harry was comforted that he was not the only one shivering.

A giant of a man, stood out above the crowd. He, being twice as tall as even the tallest of the students, and thrice as wide as the widest of them, Harry could easily see him even through the crowd.

His voice, deep and booming, cut through the noise of the crowd. "Firs' years," he called, holding his lantern up high.

The giant stepped off the gravel road, following a path of packed dirt. The path wound into a thick forest, and, huddled in the tightly-clumped group of first years, Harry, Neville and Hermione followed. They jostled against each other with barely a muttered, "Sorry," or, "Excuse me."

It was a marvel that, in the inky darkness and constraining robes, no one tripped. The night was silent except for the crunch of their shoes against the coarse dirt, and the sound of crickets chirping.

They rounded a bend, and a gasp rose above the first-years.

There, perched atop a tall mountain and glowing gold in the night, was Hogwarts castle in all her glory. High above, the peaks of the numerous towers and turrets of the castle gleamed and glistened in the starlight. Candles flickered in every window. Even the dew on the grass in the distance sparkled like diamonds.

They had reached the shore of the Great Lake, where a small fleet of boats awaited us. A small torch flickered on the bow of each boat, spreading yellow light that reflected off the water.

As per Hagrid's shouted instructions, the first years began boarding the boats. It was then that someone finally fell; a boat was fortunately placed to catch the boy who tripped.

"Trevor!" he called out, and Harry realized it was Neville who had tripped. He scrambled around in the boat, but it was no use. Trevor had vanished.

Hagrid, with his great girth and mass, took a boat for himself, while Harry hurried to claim a boat with Neville and Hermione, his friends. When all twelve boats were filled (one filled entirely by Hagrid), the man commanded, "Away," and the boats set off.

The water was extremely still. It seemed like a mirror: Harry could see twenty-four boats and two giants. The stars, so many more stars than I had ever seen in my life, seemed to surround us. The trees and shore that obscured them seemed to extend long grasping fingers into the sky.

Ahead, both in the sky and in reflection of the lake, the moon cast its soft silvery light. Harry could see it, barely more than half a circle but brighter than even the torches on their boats. In the wake of the boats, there were barely any ripples, but those ripples gleamed silver in the moonlight.

It seemed almost like a dream. Harry was glad it wasn’t.

He shared a grin with Hermione as he dipped his hand into the cool depths of the water.

They passed into shadow as they approached the cliff face, the mass of the castle blocking the quarter moon high above. Their only light was the flickering lamps of their boats, the candles of the highest levels of the castle, and, high above, the twinkling of a billion stars. It seemed like they were approaching the ivy-covered cliff face.

Harry cringed as the boats closed the distance to the ivy, but the ivy just drifted away, parting like a curtain, and revealing a dark cave.

The boats drifted into the cave. It was silent but for the quiet echoing of water dripping.After what seemed like an eternity, the boats halted in some sort of underground harbour.

Hagrid led the first years up a steep set of winding stairs to large double doors. He knocked thrice,

'The First Years, Professor McGonagall.' Hagrid said gruffly.

'Thank you Hagrid. Follow me, children.'

She led them up the stairs and stopped them before the large doors that lead to the Great Hall where she began the speech Harry had heard her practicing when she thought he wasn't listening. Professor McGonagall explained the four different houses, their values, and the point system. The only part that piqued his full attention was when she said that they could communicate with their soulmates after they had been sorted.

Harry's hand twitched towards the pouch on his hip, wanting to flick back the edge of his cloak and get his favourite self inking quill. McGonagall disappeared through the door, presumably to get all the students inside to quiet down and pay attention to the first years. There was silence as the first years shifted and whispered amongst themselves.

Harry tensed and whipped around when a girl screamed behind him. The Hogwarts ghosts had drifted through the wall. He let out a sigh of relief and turned back to the front. Professor McGonagall stood at the doors once more. She led them inside, where the upper years began whispering to each other. Harry caught a bit of what they were saying.

_'Harry Potter is supposed to be here this year.'_

_'Do you see him?'_

_'I think s– no, that's the Longbottom child.'_

Harry shrank into the middle of the first years, keeping his head down. As Professor McGonagall began calling everyone to be sorted, he scanned the Great Hall, only listening to the sortings and not watching them. Behind the staff table were four large hourglasses with each house colour on them. The order seemed to match the order of house tables. They had just finished the last names starting with C's.

The ceiling was bewitched to look like the night sky, as he knew from reading Hogwarts, A History. The floating candles somehow didn't drip wax on their heads. Perhaps those were an illusion as well, Harry mused to himself. Starting the F's. After being sorted, the trimming of the First Year student's robes and their tie seemed to change to match their house colours.

'Hermione Granger.'

She sat at the stool for a long time, her face screwed up in concentration as she argued with the hat. The hat was sentient? Hermione hadn’t said anything aloud, so it had to have some sort of mind reading ability. His thoughts flew to his time at the Dursleys. He had been so _weak_ then. Would that affect what house he was placed in?

Harry watched her go into Ravenclaw with a wide smile. She seemed to be holding back a barrage of questions but was silent for the sake of the sorting. Harry took a moment to observe the other first years waiting to be sorted. He seemed to be one of the taller boys, thanks to the potions from Madam Pomfrey, only slightly shorter than the blond boy at the back.

No last names starting with I, K, or O, Harry realised. The next letter was P. Soon, his name would be called, and whispers were sure to start. Harry didn't ask to be famous. He just wanted to be normal. He didn't want to be revered as some sort of hero for surviving something he didn't remember.

Perks, Sally-Anne went into Hufflepuff, and then the dreaded moment arrived.

'Potter, Harry,' called Professor McGonagall.

For a moment, the Great Hall fell silent. Harry stepped forwards, his footsteps echoing loudly. Then, like a fire, whispering spread through the students.

'Potter?' said one voice.

'That's right,' said another. 'He was supposed to start this year, wasn't he?'

Harry could hardly breathe as he walked up to where Professor McGonagall stood, holding the hat. The sound of whispers were unbearable. He had never had so many eyes on him, had never felt so vulnerable. His heart seemed to jump into his throat when the hat was lowered onto his head, and the brim of the hat out his sight. For a moment, the Hat muffled the sound of the Great Hall. Then, Harry started thinking very loudly.

_Before you sort me, I have a couple questions... Obviously you read minds, and everything we've ever done in our lives matters when you sort us, but will anyone ever know what any of us have ever had in our heads?_

The hat was silent for a second.

_Oh... Oh dear._

_What??_ Harry nearly panicked. Would he not be sorted? Was there no house that could fit him? He couldn't let Professor McGonagall down.

_You are... interesting. Very interesting..._

_Will you answer my questions?_

_Yes... I cannot tell anyone what I have seen in any student's head. Now hush, I need to think... Where to put you?_

_Wherever fits me best, I suppose._ Harry replied nervously. _But what if you saw malicious thoughts in someone's head? Would you still be unable to tell anyone what they were thinking?_

 _I see you would like to be in Gryffindor – you seek to please Professor McGonagall?_ The hat seemed thoughtful. _And no, Mr. Potter, I would not. I am a Sorting Hat, not a Judging Hat._

_Even if I'm not in Professor McGonagall's house, I can still talk to her… I don’t know._

_Hmmm. Now let's see... You could be a Gryffindor for your courage in the face of fear... Walking up here as confidently as you did, with everyone staring and whispering is a great feat indeed, for all the fear that you had. You could be a Hufflepuff in your loyalty to Professor McGonagall, your resilience in practicing magic, and for your kind nature. Oh-ho! Ravenclaw for learning so much magic in advance. You thirst for knowledge like you thirst for acknowledgement and belonging..._

_You could be a Slytherin. Your ambition to prove yourself to the world, and more importantly, to yourself, would have done Salazar proud... Not to mention that you share his gift with snakes. Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that, but in Hufflepuff you would find happiness. Ravenclaw would allow you to continue as you are; but for all your desire for knowledge, there is nothing for you in Ravenclaw. In Gryffindor, you would be hailed as a hero, and grow closer to Professor McGonagall._

Harry frowned. _I never asked to be a hero, and I can still see her during transfiguration, or during the weekends. I'm happy as I am, but growing into a better person is all I really want..._

 _In that case,_ said the Hat, _you shall have to be a–_

And it shouted to the Hall, '– _SLYTHERIN!'_

The Hall was silent. The fire in the fireplace crackled loudly. Professor McGonagall removed the hat from his head. Slowly, tentatively, clapping began. Then, jeering began. Soon, the entire Hall was either cheering or jeering, until the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, rose to his feet, raised his wand, and set off a cannon-blast that had the entire hall's ears ringing.

In the sudden silence, Harry walked to the Slytherin table. People shifted in their seats, letting him sit as near to the head table as he possibly could. The blond boy and his big friends were seated across from him. Harry tried not to squirm as the silence stretched on awkwardly.

The tension was palpable. Though he might not be able to cut it with a knife, he certainly could, with a chainsaw.

Finally, McGonagall called for 'Rivers, Oliver'. Harry felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. He reached into his mokeskin pouch and pulled out a self-inking quill. He peeled off the wax cover and dropped it back into the pouch. Carefully, he scribbled a quick (but very neat) 'hello' on his arm. Harry was distracted during the rest of the Sorting ceremony, compulsively checking and rechecking his arm. 

By the time the Sorting had come to a close, Harry had grown ever more disappointed by the lack of a response. As common as it was that one's soulmate was a few years younger, Harry still couldn't help but hope that his soulmate had already arrived at Hogwarts.

Everyone's attention (and heads) turned towards the Head table as Professor Dumbledore stood, arms opened wide.

'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!'

Harry blinked in confusion at the words but shrugged. Some people were just weird like that – though he would have expected a respectable and scholarly man like Dumbledore to be less– weird. Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands, and food appeared at once upon all the tables.

In his two months at Hogwarts, Harry had never dined in the Great Hall. This was the most amount of food he had ever seen in one place. Down the table, the upper year students were already piling their plates with food. Harry followed suite, his mouth salivating at the scent of the dishes.

Opposite Harry, the blond haired boy caught his eye.

'So _you're_ Harry Potter?' he said

'Yes,' said Harry. 'I am.'

'I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.' He reached a hand over the table.

'Pleasure.' Harry shook the proffered hand.

‘This is Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.'

‘Nice to meet you too. I'm Harry Potter, but you and everyone else already knows that.' Harry shovelled some food into his mouth.

'You're one of the most _famous_ wizards in the wizarding world. _Of course_ everyone knows you.'

'About me, yes. About how I defeated the Big Bad Guy, but how many people know me as a _person_?' Harry maintained eye contact while raising an eyebrow, refusing to let desperation enter his voice. He just wanted to be _normal_.

'No one knows where you've been for the past eleven years. You disappeared from the face of the earth after defeating the Dark Lord. Of course, nobody knows _you_.'

Harry shrugged, digging into his food. Malfoy stared at him before following suit. Harry knew he was a bit odd, but then again, he had only ever interacted with the Dursleys and adults until meeting the muggleborns at Diagon Alley (Dudley had scared all of their classmates away from him.)


	4. You, Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers information about Tom Riddle, and gets a bit more than he bargained for.

For the hundredth time, Harry entered his room. It seemed perfect to him. The four-poster bed in the middle of the room had green curtains that he could close for privacy. Though the room had been designed for 4 people to share, Harry had all of it to himself. Frankly, he didn't know what to do with the space. Everything he needed was in his trunk.

Harry fell backwards onto his bed, staring up at the canopy. Sometimes, he spent his sleepless nights memorising its shape, the grooves of wood, each minute detail. It was spotless except for some small, barely noticeable words scratched on the top right corner. _Tom Riddle,_ the words read.

Over the past months, Harry had become more and more convinced that there was something hidden in his bed. The panel on the headboard was wriggly, for one, and for another, it echoed loudly when hit. Still, he hadn't been able to pry it free, and he could remember wriggly furniture back at the Dursleys', too, and those hadn't had anything hidden in them. He knew – Dudley checked, and blamed the damage on him.

Rolling onto his stomach, Harry began examining the headboard panel. The edges of the headboard seemed to be slightly brighter, as if it was painted to seem exactly the same.

' _Wingardium Leviosa,_ ' Harry incanted, waving his wand at the panel. Slowly, he lifted the panel.

It rose maybe an eighth of an inch before was a loud crack, and Harry winced. With his focus lost, the spell broke, and the panel fell off the headboard.

Harry glanced at the compartment behind it. Inside were three rock-hard biscuits. Harry sniffed them, but they didn't smell like anything in particular. He checked around the edges of the compartment – the bottom didn't have anything, the sides didn't have anything, the top–

The top shifted as he pressed on it. He pushed the wooden platform up, and caught the book as it fell from it. It was a rather normal looking book: white pages, but with a black leather cover. Harry opened it.

 _Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle,_ it read on the first page

Was this the same Tom Riddle who defaced the bed? Harry flicked through the pages, just to see how much of the book was written in. As it turned out, almost the whole thing was written in. The last page had a rather interesting passage about something called Horcruxes. The writing was rather blotched and messy, and Harry found it almost illegible. Somehow, that made it seem all the more intriguing.

 _Myrtle is dead,_ read the book. _Adalonda killed her – I just can't remember why. I can't help but feel if I tell someone, I'll be killed too. This diary will be a horcrux soon enough, and that should cease to be a problem. If only Dumbledore could be fooled as easily as Dippet was. This journaling – this diary writing – it helps me remember. Maybe Adalonda will remind me why. I'll ask her when Hagrid is expelled. His monster is a danger to everyone._

Harry frowned. Hagrid, the Gentle Giant? Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts? Was that Hagrid who this Tom was talking about?

A few pages near the end detailed sketches of a snake and a spider. The snake was labeled 'Adalonda', and the spider 'Hagrid's Beast'. The snake killed someone? Or was the snake named after a lady?

Beside the snake was a tiny sketch of a person – was that a portrait of Tom? Harry couldn't help but stare at the drawing. It was very detailed. Harry could almost read emotions in the drawing's eyes.

But that was impossible. It was just a drawing.

In the last few pages, there were a lot of rushed scribbled notes about roosters and basilisks and acromantulae.

Harry flipped the diary back to the start, and began reading. He could relate to Tom – like him, Tom's soulmate never seemed to answer. Tom seemed to pour his soul into the book, detailing his frustrations with bullies (like Myrtle – was that the same Myrtle who died?) Harry had his own experiences with bullies. Tom's bullies seemed worse somehow.

An hour later, Harry grabbed his quill.

 _Hello?_ he wrote on his arm. He rolled over, watching the ink vanish into his skin. He pulled his duvet over himself and closed his eyes, not waiting for a response. Sleep was not long in coming.

Harry dreamed of hissing and crunching.

~~~~~

The rest of Harry's first year passed in a blur, punctuated by infrequent bouts of pants-shitting terror. During Hallowe'en, a troll had somehow managed to enter the castle, and all the students had ended up holed up in the Great Hall. He could remember his heart pounding as the troll tried to batter down the doors. He could remember his utter panic as the upper year students desperately blurted whatever spells they could to slow the troll's invasion.

The most frightening thing happened after the exams, when he was reading among the branches of an old weeping willow by the edge of the lake.

'How did you, a _Slytherin_ , become _top of the year_?! You're not a Ravenclaw!'

It was Hermione Granger, red-faced and incensed.

'I'm top of the year?' realised Harry. 'Oh, yeah, the results came out today!'

He whooped loudly.

Hermione glared.

'To be fair, you did beat me in Charms and History of Magic,' he said.

'And you beat me in everything else!' screamed Hermione. 'How?'

'I suppose I'm more motivated,' Harry said. He could still recall his first _Lumos_ being so overpowered he nearly blinded himself – he knew that brightness was related to the aspect of Will, but try as he might, he hadn't found an example of this happening before.

' _More motivated_?!'

'Ravenclaws treasure knowledge, but Slytherins have the ambition to reach beyond their limits to become top of the year.'

Hermione glared.

'And you beat me in Flying! Why does Flying count as a subject, and how did you even manage to beat me? We didn't even have exams for it!'

Harry blinked, stupefied.

'Flying is a subject?'

He shook his head to clear his mind.

'I suppose they might call Flying a subject,' he said, 'and as for why I beat you… maybe it's because I didn't seem obviously terrified of falling and broomsticks?'

Hermione had glared again, but vowed he would not best her in their second year. And with that, she stormed off

~~~~~

Harry's second year got off to an interesting start. Over the summer break, he couldn't help but compulsively read and reread Tom Riddle's diary. It was the most interesting thing in Hogwarts. Thus, it was great fortune when, on the train ride to Hogwarts, he happened to stumble across another of Tom Riddle's diaries.

He had sat with a dreamy blonde, and her ginger friend. He hadn’t meant to trip on the way in, since it made him look clumsy and made the ginger shriek in surprise and drop her book. Harry, being as gentlemanly as he knew how to be, picked it up for her.

On the front cover, he could read an embossed and gilded name: _T. M. Riddle_.

'Does that stand for Tom Riddle,' Harry asked the girl.

'You know who this person is?' the girl asked him.

Yeah,' he said.

The girl hesitated. 'I was going to use this as a diary, but if you give me a new notebook, I can give this to you and you can return it to– Tom Riddle.'

'Of course,' he said, nodding with understanding.

He reached into his mokeskin pouch and pulled a blank notebook. He passed it to her, and, after she glanced through it, she passed him Tom's other diary.

'You’re Harry Potter.'

Harry and the redhead both started, before turning to face the blonde.

Harry sat next to the blonde girl, lacing his fingers together. 'And if I am?'

She blinked slowly. 'I’m Luna Lovegood. I’ve heard about you, but you’re very different from how the Daily Prophet describes you.'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah. I think so too.'

He fell into easy conversation with Luna, with her friend, Ginny, adding in here and there. He didn’t miss the looks Ginny sent him, and definitely did not miss her blushing every time he addressed her. Thankfully Luna was treating him like a normal person, not one who had supposedly defeated a Dark Lord.

~~~~~

As a second-year, Harry wouldn't arrive at Hogwarts on boats. Instead, he would ride carriages down a dirt road towards the castle. Harry had heard about the carriages from the upperclassmen, but that didn't stop him from being surprised when he saw them.

From what he remembered, everyone said they were harnessed to nothing but air. To Harry's eyes, that was very obviously not the case. Attached to each carriage were two ugly creatures, like an emaciated horse with leathery bat wings, pure white eyes, and sharpened fangs. Harry could imagine the stereotypical Grim Reaper astride atop one of those things, his scythe in hand.

Hermione bumped into him, and he whirled around, his eyes widening as she began to apologise.

'It's alright,' he said, turning his attention back to the… things.

There was a few seconds' silence as students climbed aboard the carriages.

'What is it?' Hermione asked.

'Those– _things_ pulling the carriages – what are they?'

'Nothing’s pulling the carriages, Harry.' Hermione raised a hand to his forehead, which he batted away in frustration.

'They’re black, or dark grey, skeletal horses…' Harry gestured wildly in their general direction. 'Winged– Tangible– Starved–'

'Are you feeling alright?' Hermione asked.

~~~~~

'Thestrals' _._ Professor McGonagall later told him. 'They are the souls of children who begged for death – only those who have seen death can see them.'

~~~~~

Harry lay on his bed, shivering in the comfort of the plain wood and green linens. He couldn't get his mind off the Thestrals. They were the most disconcerting things he had ever seen.

His mind searched for something else to think about, and he sat up sharply. There was a new diary in his mokeskin pouch, he remembered.

He pulled out both of Riddle's. Examination showed they were nearly identical. Black leather cover, silvery tin protecting the corners, ‘T. M. Riddle’ written on the first page of the new diary. ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’ written on the older diary.

Harry returned the old diary to the depth of his pouch, and opened the new diary. The second page was blank.

Confused, he began flipping through pages. Blank, blank, blank–

All the pages were blank. Why would someone go to the trouble of embossing and gilding a diary if none of the pages were written on?

Harry pulled out a quill. For a moment, he stared at the page. Then, compulsively, he wrote the selfsame word he had written so many times on the blank skin of his arm.

_Hello?_

The word faded into the book like ink on his forearm.

He stared at the book as if it had grown a head.

'Who are you?' he muttered as he wrote the words onto the pages.

_My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. What is your name?_

Harry paused. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Again. Maybe he should take the book to Professor McGonagall and allow her to look over it. He picked up the book and began walking to her quarters, replying as he walked.

'Are you stuck in the book?'

_I don't know. What is your name?_

Harry paused for a moment, then, without thinking, wrote, _Evan Taylor. What year did you get in there? How long have you been stuck?_

Harry exited the Slytherin common room, climbing the stairs to the ground floor.

 _Nice to meet you, Evan,_ the words appeared on the diary. _I was trapped here in 1943. I don't know how long it's been, though._

1943! Harry nearly dropped the book. Whoever was in it had been stuck in there for almost 50 years.

Harry was struck by a sudden bout of curiosity. 'Can you tell me what it was like when you were at Hogwarts??'

_What year is it for you? Is it still 1943?_

'No,' Harry wrote. 'It's 1992 here.'

_I can't tell you... but I can show you._

The pages of the book began to flip in an intangible wind.

At the top-left of the page, words appeared in black ink.

**_1st September, 1939_ **

The gap between the pages seemed to glow, the glow expanding until it had completely consumed his entire vision.

Harry fell forwards for what seemed to be an eternity.

~~~~~

The world came into focus, and Harry collapsed into a heap, cursing. Magical transportation wasn't his forte.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. In front of him, a dark-haired boy around Harry's age sat in a wooden chair staring at him.

'I'm sorry, where am I?' Harry asked the boy.

'You're in my memories of my second year,' he said. 'Hogwarts, the Slytherin common rooms. 1st September, 1939.'

'Exactly 53 years ago,' remarked Harry. He turned, and saw someone on the four-poster bed.

'And that's me, 53 years ago,' said the boy. 'I'm Tom Riddle, if you're wondering.

Harry took his hand, standing shakily. 'Evan Taylor.' He paused, trying not to hyperventilate. 'Would you happen to be Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle?'

'Yes. I am.'

Harry was so bloody _screwed_.

~~~~~

He sat by the fire of the common room. There were a few couches that he could have sat on, but being near the fire was warmer. He glanced at his arm, and the sheer blankness of it. There was a possibility that his soulmate was alive right now. Very low possibility, but it was still possible. Harry paused with his quill hovering over his arm.

It wouldn't hurt to try, wouldn't it?

_'Hello?'_

There was a surprised sound on the other side of the common room. The living Tom looked up, his head turning to Harry. Beside them, the memory Tom stared into the burning embers.

 _'Hello.'_ And there was a heart after that.

Harry turned, and his eyes locked with Tom's. Of course it was him. Why couldn't he have bonded with _his age_ and not someone _55_ _years older_ than him, who spent fifty years trapped in a book? All Harry wanted was to be normal, for Merlin's sake.

He tore his eyes away and gazed into the fire. His mind wandered back to his first year, when he had gone to Professor McGonagall after failing to light the fire in his room. They had ended up talking about wizarding history and catching Harry up to speed on what all magicals already knew by the time they got to Hogwarts. He hadn't even gotten to ask her about _incendio_. Tom's baritone cut through his thoughts.

'Taylor.'

'Riddle.' Harry inclined his head, still staring at the fire.

Tom walked over and sat next to Harry.

'It's always you.' Harry muttered. 'I don't understand. Why is it _always you?_ '

'Perhaps the fact that we are soulmates has something to do with it.'

Tom's voice elicited a small shudder out of Harry. He was so close, yet not close enough.

'But it doesn't make _sense._ How I got here... and if I'll ever make it _back_.'

He couldn't break down here, in front of Tom. _Weakling. Freak._ What if Tom was like the Dursleys? What if he _hated_ Harry? Tom's hand brushed against his shoulder. Harry _flinched_ , scrambling to get away. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't _focus_ , for Merlin's sake. **_Stupid boy!_** Harry ran.


	5. In The Depths of Your Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thought he had finally found a home.
> 
> He was wrong.
> 
> Trigger Warning:  
> Suicide, Drowning

The lake was calm. The Whomping Willow _didn't exist._ So much was different. Harry stared at the sky. One of the few things that had not changed was the sky. The sky was a constant. Blue, with fluffy white clouds. Harry closed his eyes tightly, willing himself not to cry. His day had been fine. There was nothing to cry about.

Other than the fact that you don't know how you came here. Or how you'll go back. Or how much Professor McGonagall will worry about you.

'Shut up,' Harry said, a few tears vanishing as they hit the grass by his head.

'I wasn't aware that you had heard me.'

Harry scrambled backwards, simultaneously wiping his face and trying to pull his wand out of his robes. Tom was kneeling beside him, hands raised warily. 'Harry...'

'You _followed me??_ ' Harry demanded, his hand still fumbling for his wand.

Tom reached out placatingly. 'Harry. Take a deep breath.'

Harry could barely see him through his tears.

'Leave me alone.' His wand was pointed at Tom. His hands were shaking. The biggest threat he proved to Tom was the possibility of stabbing his eye out.

'We're soulmates, right? If there's anyone who can't leave you alone, it's me. Breathe, Harry.'

Under Tom's gentle directions, Harry's wand fell out of his hands and he dropped back onto the grass with a sob. Hesitant arms wrapped around him.

'I know it feels like your world has crashed down around you, but you can rebuild it. Here, with me, and everything will be okay.'

~~~~

'Professor Dumbledore!'

They were sitting in the Transfiguration classroom. Dumbledore, with remarkably red hair, stood at the front of the room, teaching the class.

'He can't hear you,' Tom said. 'He's not actually Professor Dumbledore; it's just my memory of him.'

~~~~~

It was a year later when the guilt caught up to Harry.

'I lied to you, Tom.'

'Oh?'

'I'm... My name is Harry.' Harry said, eyes flicking down in shame.

'Just Harry?' Tom's eyes were soft, but ever calculating.

'Yes. Just Harry.' His mouth was dry.

'Harry. Fits you better.' Tom drawled. 'What about Harry Riddle?'

'Perfect.' Harry whispered.

~~~~~

'It's been a year... Have they _forgotten me?_ '

'Of course not. You're _you._ How could anyone forget you?'

'I'm... _just Harry._ ' Tears leaked down his face. They were gently wiped away by Tom's cool hands. _Safe._

A gentle kiss to the top of his head. 'You're _my_ Harry,' said Tom. 'I can never forget you.'

~~~~~

Harry had finally found a home. A home 49 years in his past, but a home nonetheless. He felt safe with Tom. Between the seconds of Tom's memories, they lived in a flat in Hogsmeade. Harry’s eyes raked over Tom’s sleeping face, trying to memorise as much of it as he possibly could. He already had a full notebook of sketches of Tom, but it wouldn’t hurt to draw him for the ten thousandth time.

Harry took out a fresh leaf of parchment and sketched. He lingered over the cheekbones and eyebrows, putting as much thought into it that he could. They would be returning to Hogwarts soon, the two of them inexorably pulled along by the memory-Tom. Sometimes, Harry hated memory-Tom, but it never could last. There was no way for memory-Tom to know.

It seemed normal when it first appeared. A speck of light appeared in his vision.

A minute later, and it had grown to cover nearly an entire wall, and Harry panicked when he began to feel as if he were being dragged upwards. Harry dropped the parchment and shook Tom awake.

'Tom, I think– I think they may be taking me back.' Harry gasped. 'I don't want to go.'

Tom stroked his face. 'I'll wait for you. Contact me, Harry. I lo-'

Then the world vanished far beneath Harry's feet, as Harry was pulled upwards, kicking and screaming.

~~~~~

Harry came to with a slight gasp. He was lying atop the diary (and hadn't it been such a long time since he'd seen it?) His eyes opened to meet a pair of nearly glowing red eyes.

In the second it took for Harry to take in the snake-man, the only thing he could think was, 'There's no way he's venomous.'

Belatedly, he realised that it wasn't just a thought – he had actually said it – and winced sharply.

'Is this a game to you, _boy_?' The snake person spat, eyes blazing red.'Do not cross me! I am Lord Voldemort!'

Harry's mind whirred. Suddenly, he could think of nothing but the times Tom had distracted him as memory-Tom had scribbled anagrams of his name into his diary.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE.

'Tom?' Harry croaked out. 'Is that you?'

' _What?_ ' hissed Lord Voldemort.

Could it be?

‘Tom, you said you’d wait for me. Your soulmate.” Harry’s tone lifted at the end of the sentence, turning the reminder into a question.

Voldemort was silent. Harry sat up, clutching his head. He had fallen against a gravestone. His vision blurred as he stumbled closer to Cedric.

‘I never had a soulmate.’ Voldemort snapped. 'I never needed a soulmate! I never _wanted_ a soulmate!'

Harry reeled. Eyes burning with tears. _Weak._

'How about all those times Myrtle teased you? I always loved the way you would respond. "Did that take you all week to come up with?" You always had such a sharp tongue.'

For a moment, Harry could see _Tom._ He was distracted.

' _Accio Cup._ '

Tom's eyes were filled with hatred and betrayal as he turned towards the book.

~~~~~

Cedric was dead. It was Harry’s fault. Everyone blamed him, he could tell. Not the facts, that Lord Voldemort kidnapped and sacrificed him to resurrect himself, could stop them. Not even the glares of Professor McGonagall could stop their whispering and hateful comments. All anyone saw was that Cedric vanished, and Harry returned after two years, carrying Cedric's body with him.

Harry had retreated to the room he spent the summer at. Students kept trying to cast meanspirited spells at his back. Some got absorbed by a shield Harry put up whenever he heard them.. Others were silent, and he never noticed them until they hit.

Harry felt miserable. Tom had lied to him. Granted, Harry had lied first, but Tom became Voldemort, who would go on to kill Harry's parents and hundreds of others. As much as he wanted to, Harry couldn't find an excuse for Tom. He had, so many times, distracted Harry with a stray touch or kiss as Harry tried to see the anagrams Tom had made with his name. There could be no reasonable reason for him to have done that.

Harry felt adrift. Sometimes, for weeks at a time, he couldn't think of anything to do. He would lie in bed later and later, unable to sleep, and wake later and later, and go straight to classes. He began forgetting meals, though he didn't mind much. He wasn't hungry.

Sometimes, he was glad he didn't have friends. That way, if he vanished, he wouldn't feel bad that they felt sad. And, as long as he was around, any friends he did have would receive abuse from those same imbeciles who refused to let facts change their judgements.

The only quiet time Harry had was in the early hours of the morning, where no one but he would be awake. Irony of ironies, that hour was called the 'witching hour'.

Harry’s fingers traced over his wand one last time. He’d end all of their hate now. Tears fought their way down his cheeks as he walked away. He would always remember the kindness shown to him by Professor McGonagall. Perhaps there was something more he could do? But a note would break the illusion of vanishing, and maybe that would hurt her more.

All Harry needed was the Draught of Living Death in his right hand, his broom in his left hand and the magic in his veins. The air bit at his skin. Cold seeped into his skin. The sensations of his bare feet crunching leaves and grass gave an amount of satisfaction Harry had never found elsewhere.

The lake was calm. The sky was dark, almost pitch black, without pinpricks of light shining through the briny clouds. This time, there were no blue skies or cheerful birds. This time, there was no Tom to comfort him. Voldemort had the diary, and there was no way he'd let Harry back into it. There was no way back. Voldemort was _not_ his Tom. Harry– Harry had been addicted to Tom, to his kind words and smooth voice and soft touch and withdrawal was hitting him hard. He stared out at the lake. The waters were flat, clear and cool. Harry fingered the vial of Living death. There was nothing left for him here.

Harry sat atop his broom and lazily flew around the castle, taking in its sights one last time. The astronomy tower, where he and Tom had pointed out constellations to each other, as memory-Tom stared out at the grounds of Hogwarts.

No regrets. He whispered a goodbye to the empty air. The potion smelled vile, but it had no taste as he drank it, his mouth going numb as the potion entered it.His broom was slipping away as he fell unconscious. The bottle slipped from his hand as he fell, deeper and deeper into the depths. Like he had fallen into Tom’s eyes and eaten Tom's lies. He was unconscious even before he hit the water. Harry would soon be free.

~~~~~

Professor McGonagall stared at the Marauders Map, contemplating. She had watched Harry multiple times since he had returned to Hogwarts. Since the Triwizard Tournament and the Yule Ball. Since Voldemort's return. She gave in, speaking the code words to open it. Ink spread over the parchment, creating the map in a few seconds. Her eyes ran over the entire page, noting Harry missing from his usual haunts at the Library, the Astronomy tower and the kitchens. McGonagall's panic only increased when she noticed he was not in his room. She found his name at the lake, which then went _over_ the lake.

The map dropped back to the table as she ran out of her room. Harry was trying to _kill himself._

'HARRY!' Her voice wavered as she saw a body floating on the surface of the lake. ' _Accio Harry Potter._ '

His body flew to her, landing with a wet thump on the grass. Her heart pounded as she noticed he wasn't breathing. Draught of Living Death? She casted a hasty patronus to Snape. 'Bring Wiggenweld Potion. Black Lake. Now!'

Several rocks had been hurled deep into the lake by the time Snape arrived. He expelled the contents of the bottle into Harry's stomach.

~~~~~

Consciousness rudely crashed into Harry as warmth flowed from his stomach into his extremities. His eyes widened as he failed to inhale a breath. He coughed once, twice, expelling water.

His eyes met McGonagall's.

 _Not like this_ , he thought. _It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't supposed to find him!_

He coughed again, but he couldn't seem to get air into his lungs. Already, he was feeling lightheaded, and the edges of his vision were darkening.

Harry's limbs felt heavy as lead, but his body convulsed, desperately trying to get some air. It was too, little, too late,

McGonagall's hands shook as Harry's convulsions slowly died down.. His lungs still had water in them. The light was fading from Harry's eyes. He couldn't _breathe,_ but he was finally... Finally free.

But he didn't mean for it to go this way.

~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> (Note added on 21st Sept 2020)  
> So... It's been a while. This fic has been around for 5 months now, and after that wonderful hiatus of not writing or editing or posting fics, I'm thinking of writing another fic.
> 
> Said fic will most likely be a Sanders Sides fic, a LoTR fic, a Spiderman/Avengers fic, or another Harry Potter fic. I'm open for ideas, and will (hopefully) get around to replying to the reviews left on this fic 
> 
> Thanks for your amazing support!


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